


what are you waiting for?

by tozierrichie



Series: waiting for something more [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Cuddling, M/M, Pre-Relationship, but isnt necessary to read to understand this fic, mid twenties eddie kaspbrak, mid twenties richie tozier, part of my social media au, they're in love though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23157382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tozierrichie/pseuds/tozierrichie
Summary: "He clearly sweat during the night, but hints of his cologne linger on his shirt. Eddie thinks it must be cheap, and on anyone else he’d hate it. But as usual, he’s learned he loves a lot of things when it's Richie who's doing them. "or;Eddie thinks about the reasons he likes Richie
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: waiting for something more [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664608
Comments: 9
Kudos: 244





	what are you waiting for?

**Author's Note:**

> this is for my social media au (derrycoffeehaus on twitter) (and also was me being indulgent and wanting to write about them cuddling), which is why its so short but you don't need any knowledge of the au to read this! hope u enjoy it

Eddie sets his phone down beside him and pulls his arm that's not curled protectively around Richie’s back to card his fingers through his hair. Eddie quite likes Richie’s hair, he likes it when it mats against his forehead at the end of a long shift or the end of a standup set. He likes when Richie nervously runs his own hands through it when he gets too worked up over something he’s talking about. He feels the soft strands caress his knuckles, the webs of his fingers. They’re a little greasy, but Eddie finds himself liking that a little too. He notices it’s already thinning near the crown as he brings his hand closer to draw shapes along Richie’s hairline. It starts off as squiggles before devolving into something more indulgent. His forehead becomes Eddie’s middle school notebook as he uses the point of Richie’s widows peak for the start of his heart. 

Richie stirs for a moment and Eddie quickly retracts his hand away but Richie only draws himself in closer, breath ghosting his neck. Briefly, Eddie considers grabbing the hand circling his waist and lacing his fingers with it (he’s holding me so tightly but it doesn’t feel suffocating). The thought is fleeting though as he works his right hand that was curled around Richie up into his hair again. He takes a deep breath through his nose and inhales Richie’s scent. He smells distinctly Richie. He clearly sweat during the night, but hints of his cologne linger on his shirt. Eddie thinks it must be cheap, and on anyone else he’d hate it. But as usual, he’s learned he loves a lot of things when it's Richie who's doing them. 

He feels Richie huff a breath against his neck but doesn’t move his hand away, instead choosing to cradle it as Richie moves back to look up at him. 

“Wha-oh. Morning Eds,” he near whispers, vocal cords still not cooperating after deep slumber. “I forgot you were here.” 

Eddie feels the Crush Catalogue in his mind add another item that reads “Richie Tozier’s voice in the morning”. Richie’s wearing a loose grin, squinting at Eddie from both the lack of glasses and the slow adjustment to the light. Eddie wants to bring his hand up to his left eye, caress the skin underneath it. His left eye is smaller, squintier, and he vaguely remembers Richie making a joke about it being an insecurity. 

“Hi. Good morning, your breath stinks,” and it does. Disgustingly, abhorrently, Eddie likes that too. This just makes Richie grin with such reckless abandon that he wants to warn him of cramping. 

“What? You don’t like my morning breath?” Eddie has no time for a comeback before Richie looks down and notices his arm wrapped like a vice around Eddie’s waist, fingers trailing upward toward his chest.

“Sorry,” he whispers as he starts to pull away. Quickly, and somewhat unthinkingly, Eddie grabs his wrist. “It’s okay,” he says slowly, offering Richie a small smile. 

“Were you playing with my hair?” Richie’s eyes roll up as if he’d be able to see his own forehead if he looked up hard enough. 

“Felt nice,” is all Eddie offers in response, a sense of embarrassment running through him with a tinge of regret. He wants and wants and wants. 

“I liked it, good with your hands, Eds,” mumbling into the end of the sentence as he lays his head back down on his chest. “Gimme five more minutes,” Richie says, barely audible and its seconds before Eddie makes out what he says, and seconds later Richie is already sound asleep again.

"I liked it, too, Rich."


End file.
